


The Auld Sod

by 5546Laura



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5546Laura/pseuds/5546Laura
Summary: Booth and Brennan celebrate St. Patrick's Day.





	The Auld Sod

“Happy St. Patrick’s Day, my pretty colleen. Erin go Bragh!” Brennan looked up at her office door to see Booth grinning as he tried to do an Irish jig. “Ready for some lunch, me darlin’?”

Brennan furrowed her brow as she shut down her computer. “Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what?” Booth gently put his hand on her back as he escorted her out of her office.

“Like a drunken leprechaun? Is that your attempt at an Irish brogue?” She shook her head and laughed. “You sound more like the Iron Leprechaun after someone has banged his head against the mat.”

“I do not sound like a midget wrestler”, Booth griped as he parked the SUV. “I know what an Irishman sounds like…my grandfather was a second generation Irishman.”

“I don’t think so.” Brennan grimaced as she looked up at the restaurant sign. “Why did you choose this place for lunch, Booth? The food here is so heavy and greasy….”

“O’Malley’s is a great place to eat a fine, hearty lunch. C’mon...you can have some colcannon...that’s a vegetarian dish. Besides, it’s St. Patrick’s Day. We have to celebrate our ancestors.”

“My family’s last name wasn’t really Brennan, you know”, she said with a glare, “and I thought your family was English and Italian…”

“Max’s real last name is Keenan, which is Irish...what was your mother’s maiden name?”

Brennan studied her menu carefully. “Actually, I’m not sure...they changed their names many times, but...I think it was Kelly…”

“So more Irish, right? My mom’s family was Irish...Maloneys and O’Donnells. She used to laugh and say I was full of ‘Maloney baloney’, and I thought that was so funny…” Booth paused as he relived one of the few happy memories of his childhood. “I think I’m gonna have some corned beef and cabbage.”

“Are you sure you want cabbage, Booth? It tends to make you flatulent…”

“Yeah...nice, Bones. It’s a small price to pay to honor the patron saint of Ireland, isn’t it?”

Brennan tilted her head primly as she sipped her tea. “You know...Patrick wasn’t really Irish. He was probably the son of Roman citizens living in Britain…his real name was probably Patricius...”

Booth sighed and rolled his eyes. He really didn’t want a history lesson while he was enjoying his Guinness. “Well, I guess that may be true, but, you know, he did some great things in his lifetime. He was the missionary who converted Ireland to Christianity by using a shamrock to explain the Holy Trinity, and he chased the snakes out of Ireland…”

“He couldn’t chase the snakes out of Ireland, because there were never any snakes there. The climate is too cool there for most reptiles. As far as the shamrock goes, there are some Christian scholars who believe that what he taught about the Trinity is really a form of heresy called partialism.” Brennan shook her head at her husband. “You are so easily swayed by myths and legends, Booth.”

“Father Timothy said last Sunday that the ‘snakes’ referred to in the legend were probably the Druids and other pagans, not real animals.” Booth smirked at the look of surprise on his wife’s face. “Yeah, I know some obscure facts, too, just like you do.” He smiled at the waitress who set the plate of corned beef in front of him. “St. Patrick was a leader of his people, and a brave man who went back to do the work God called him to do in the face of great danger. I don’t care if he was really Irish…”

Brennan chuckled as she started on her colcannon. “So we celebrate our Irish heritage by drinking green beer at wild parties and having large gaudy parades? I don’t think that’s what Patrick had in mind, do you?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Booth shrugged his shoulders. “Just because a fella’s a saint, it doesn’t mean he can’t have any fun. I mean, I’m sure he imbibed some good Irish whiskey from time to time. He was probably just one of the guys, you know? Hey, guess what else I learned? The English word whiskey comes from the Gaelic word uisge meaning ‘water of life’.”

Brennan beamed proudly at her husband. “Gaelic is one of the world’s most difficult languages, Booth. You said that really well.” She raised her teacup to him as a toast. “Slainte’, Booth.”

“Thanks, a chuisle mo chroi.” Booth took another bite of his corned beef and winked at his wife. “You know, there’s a reason the Irish usually have so many children….”

“I know. It’s because the majority of them are Roman Catholic and they don’t practice birth control.” Brennan grimaced a bit as she took another sip of tea. “I remember that from our premarital counseling when we were going to get married in your church.”

“Well, that’s true...but there’s also a very special sort of Irish jig...maybe I can show you that dance this evening….maybe we can dance all night long…”

“If we dance all night, Booth, I’ll look like a banshee tomorrow.” Brennan arched her eyebrow at her husband suggestively. “However, I do think maybe you could look for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow….”

His grin widened as he realized what she meant. “Dancing and looking for gold...sounds like a great evening…”

Brennan smirked into her teacup. “I hope your flatulence doesn’t spoil the mood….” 

Booth smiled as he took another bite of cabbage. “Don’t worry, a ghra’ geal...you’ll be too busy to notice it.”

And a Happy St. Patrick’s day to you….  
A chuisle mo chroi means ‘pulse of my heart, and a ghra’ geal means shining love….


End file.
